


Oh How My Knees Go Weak

by justkisa



Series: The Boys Who Kiss and Bite [4]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Bondage, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 20:49:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7376872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justkisa/pseuds/justkisa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marek ties Gonzalo up. Porn, basically. Porn featuring Gonzalo tied to a chair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh How My Knees Go Weak

**Author's Note:**

> 1) D/s themes.
> 
> 2) Still pretending they all speak enough Italian to have fluent conversations.

The chair doesn’t belong in the room. It’s from the formal dining room set from downstairs that Marek never uses. It’s sitting in the middle of the left side of the room facing the bed. 

Dries is sprawled across the bed. He’s on his stomach, propped up on his elbows, looking at his phone, knees bent, his bare feet in the air. He looks up when they come into the room. He smiles at Gonzalo and opens his mouth, like he’s going to say something, but then he glances over Gonzalo’s shoulder and shuts his mouth. 

“Over here, Pipita,” Marek says, from behind Gonzalo. He presses his hand to the small of Gonzalo’s back and steers Gonzalo forward toward the chair. He keeps pushing Gonzalo forward until he’s right in front of the chair, his knees bumping up against the edge of the dark blue, upholstered seat. He taps his thumb against Gonazlo’s back, says, “Turn around,” then takes his hand off him.

Gonzalo doesn’t. Not right away. He stares down at the chair, at the dark blue velvet upholstery, at the sturdy, dark-stained wood arms. “Pipita,” Marek says, soft, but like a warning. Gonzalo turns around. Marek smiles, it’s fleeting though, and then he says, tone and expression both going serious, “You sure you want to do this?” 

Gonzalo’s as sure as he’s ever going to be. He nods. “Yeah, uh,” he says, “Yes.”

Marek stares at him for a moment, like he’s trying to determine Gonzalo’s sincerity. “Okay,” he says finally, “If you want to stop, you tell me, okay? For any reason, doesn’t matter what, doesn’t matter if it’s something I do or say to Dries, you don’t like it, you want me to stop, you _tell_ me and I will. Okay?” 

Gonzalo nods.

“Pipita,” Marek says, “You’ve got to say it for me.”

Gonzalo has to swallow first. His mouth’s gone dry. “Yeah,” he says, “Okay.” 

Marek takes a step back. “Okay,” he says, “Take off your shoes and socks.” Gonzalo hesitates, takes a deep breath, then kneels down and starts untying his shoelaces. 

Marek’s legs block most of his view of the bed but he can just see Dries. Dries is staring. It’s a curious sensation, to be watched instead of watching. Gonzalo stares back, his fingers tangled in his shoelaces, what he was doing forgotten. He leans to the side, so he can see more of Dries. Marek puts his hand on Gonzalo’s head, fists his hand in his hair, and tips his head back. “Do what I asked,” Marek says, “You can stare at him later.” 

Gonzalo could break Marek’s hold. Shake off his hand. It would be easy. Marek’s grip is loose. And, even if it wasn’t, Gonzalo could still shake him off. But he doesn’t. He stares up at Marek and thinks about it. But he doesn’t. And the longer he thinks about it the less he wants to do it. The longer he kneels there, Marek’s fingers in his hair holding him in place, the more he wants to just— “Okay,” he says. 

Marek smiles a little. He lets go of Gonzalo and runs his palm over the top of Gonzalo’s head. “Finish taking off your shoes.”  


Gonzalo looks down at his shoes. Glad to look away from Marek for a moment. He takes off one shoe then the other then his socks. He almost stands right up after he takes off his second sock but he doesn’t. He waits. For what he— “Stand up,” Marek says. For _that _. Gonzalo stands up.__

__Marek is _right_ there in front of him. Closer than he’d been when Gonazlo knelt down. Gonzalo almost steps back but there’s nowhere to go. The chair’s right behind him. Marek reaches out and curls his hand around Gonzalo’s wrist over the cuff of his shirt. He hooks his fingers into the gap above the button and presses his fingertips against the inside of Gonzalo’s wrist. “Roll up your sleeves,” he says. He lets go but Gonzalo can still feel the hot press of his fingertips against the pulse point of his wrist. _ _

__It takes Gonzalo three tries to unbutton his right cuff. He waits for Marek to give him shit about it but Marek doesn’t say anything. It’s weird. Makes Gonzalo feel off-kilter. Unsettled. He rolls his sleeve up to just under his elbow. “Okay?” he says, glancing at Marek._ _

__Marek nods. He taps Gonzalo’s left wrist. “Now this one.”_ _

__It’s easier to do his other sleeve. When he’s done, though, he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Doesn’t— “Good,” Marek says, and that, _fuck_ , that settles something in Gonzalo, but he still doesn’t know what to do now. Needs Marek to— “Do you want to leave your pants on or take them off?” _ _

__Gonzalo blinks at him. “Uh, what?”_ _

__“Your pants,” Marek says, “On or off?” Gonzalo doesn’t know how to answer. “If you leave them on,” Marek says, “They’ll stay on, stay buttoned and zipped until—“_ _

__“Off,” Gonzalo says, interrupting him, “Okay? Off.”_ _

__It’s strange, unbuttoning his pants, pulling down his zipper, with Marek right _there_ , watching him, close enough that when he starts working his pants down his hips he accidentally kicks Marek’s shoe. Being the center of Marek’s focus is— Gonzalo doesn’t know what it is. But it makes him itch. Makes him sweat. _ _

__Gonzalo gets his pants off and kicks them away. Then he’s standing there in front of Marek in nothing but his underwear and his shirt. And it’s—_ _

__“Sit down,” Marek says. Gonzalo sits. Just gracelessly drops down into the chair. It shakes a little. The velvet upholstery of the seat is soft against the backs of his thighs. Marek steps a little closer, until he’s almost standing between Gonzalo’s feet. “Rest your arms, palm down, on the—“ He leans down and taps one of the chair arms._ _

__Gonzalo does it. The wood is smooth and cool against his arms. Marek touches his shoulder, light and quick, his thumb catching in Gonzalo’s collar. “Stay here,” he says, “I’m going to get some stuff from the bed, okay?”_ _

__“Yeah,” Gonzalo says, nodding jerkily, “Okay.”_ _

__Marek turns away and goes over to the bed. Gonzalo doesn’t watch him go. Instead, he looks at Dries. Dries is sitting right at the edge of the bed, his legs dangling over the side. He’s not looking at Gonzalo, though, he’s watching Marek. Marek murmurs something to Dries, too low for Gonzalo to hear, and touches Dries’ cheek. Dries turns his face into Marek’s palm, nuzzling against Marek’s hand. Marek slides his hand down, curves it around Dries’ neck, and presses his thumb against Dries’ throat. Dries makes a soft, wanting sound. It’s intimate, the gesture, more so than a kiss. It’s something like— Gonzalo’s not sure. He wants to look away _and_ he wants to stare until he figures it out. Marek says something else to Dries, something else Gonzalo can’t hear, then lets him go. _ _

__Dries’ head lolls back, like Marek’s hand had been keeping him upright. When he lifts his head, he looks straight at Gonzalo. He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t _anything_. Just stares. His lips parted, cheeks flushed, eyes wide and unfocused. Gonzalo stares back until Marek comes and blocks his view. _ _

__Marek’s hands are filled with lengths of rope. The ropes are black and long enough that the ends dangle in front of Marek’s knees. The rope. It’s not the type of thing you just have lying around. “You’ve—“ Gonzalo says._ _

__“I’ve…” Marek says. He lays the rope in precise lines over Gonzalo’s thighs, starting just above his knees. Gonzalo holds his breath and doesn’t move. When Marek’s done, Gonzalo breathes again, but carefully, and stays still, because he doesn’t want to disturb the neat, parallel lines of rope. The ropes weighs hardly anything but Gonzalo still feels held down. “Pipita,” Marek says. Gonzalo looks up. Away from the rope. “I’ve…” Marek says again._ _

__“You’ve,” Gonzalo says slowly, “Done this before?”_ _

__Marek nods. “Yes.”_ _

__Gonzalo glances past Marek, towards where he knows Dries is sitting. “With…”_ _

__“Yes,” Marek says, “A few times.”_ _

__Gonzalo shifts a little and the ropes slip along his thighs, the neat lines collapsing into each other. “With…” he says and lifts his knee. The ropes slide down his leg._ _

__Marek leans down and picks up the length of rope closest to Gonzalo’s knees. “Yes.”_ _

__Gonzalo pictures it, the rope that’s lying across his thighs, pulled taut against Dries’ skin, twined around his wrists, his ankles. His breath stutters and catches in his throat._ _

__“You like that, don’t you, Pipita,” Marek says, soft and low, drawing the strand of rope through his fingers, “That this,” he holds the rope up, “it touched him. That I used it on him first.”_ _

__Gonzalo licks his lips. He nods once. Marek smiles, quick and sharp, and says, “I’m going to start with your arms, okay?” Gonzalo nods again because he can’t shape his mouth around even an answer as simple _okay_ , can’t—_ _

__Marek folds the rope in half, lines the ends up precisely, then slides his hand up to the curved bend in the rope. It’s transfixing, watching Marek’s narrow, pale fingers slide along the dark length of rope. “I didn’t,” Marek says, and Gonzalo looks up into Marek’s face, “tie him like this, like I’m going to tie you.” He leans in and loops the folded rope under right arm of the chair. “I tied his arms behind his back,” he says, murmuring the words to Gonzalo like a secret, “Then I fucked him. You should’ve seen it, Pipita, he looked so pretty like that, rope around his wrists, his arms. And he was so good, so sweet, begging for it when I fucked him.” Gonzalo stares up at him, rapt, Marek’s words wrapping around him like the sticky strands of a spider’s web. And he forgets about the rope until Marek pulls it snug against his skin._ _

__He looks down. Looks at the rope wrapped around his arm. He tries to move it, his arm, tries to life it up. It’s an instinctive reflex, to fight, to not be held down. He can’t lift it up. He’s— Marek splays his hand along Gonzalo’s arm and presses down. “Easy, Pipita,” he says, “Easy.” He tucks two fingers under the rope. “You want me to undo it? Let you go?”_ _

__Gonzalo stares up at him and takes a slow, deep breath. He doesn’t. Not really. He just— He wasn’t prepared for the way the rope felt, the way being tied to the chair arm felt, so different then being held in place by Marek’s hands. There’s a strict stillness in being bound to the chair. Marek’s grip, his hands on Gonzalo, had moved and shifted. In Marek’s hands, Gonzalo was caught but not stilled like this, not held in place in the same way. He takes another deep breath. “No,” he says._ _

__Marek nods. “Okay,” he says softly, “Pipita, okay,” and turns his attention back to the rope. He wraps and twists the rope around Gonzalo’s arm. His movements slow and deliberate. Gonzalo breathes in and out, _in and out_ , and watches the rope curve and turn around his arm. Marek tucks his fingers under the rope with every twist and turn and they’re warm against Gonzalo’s skin, a contrast to the coolness of the rope. When Marek’s done, there’s a wide cuff of rope around Gonzalo’s arm, a knot that looks like no knot he’s ever seen. Marek skims his fingertips along the knot. “You still good?” he says._ _

__“Yeah,” Gonzalo says. He feels settled, like something else had been wrapped around him along with the rope, a kind of stillness - a _calmness_ \- that he’s never felt before. “I’m good.” _ _

__Marek stares at him for a moment. “Okay,” he says, leaning down to pick up another strand of rope, “I’m going to do your other arm now.”_ _

__This time, when Marek pulls the rope close against Gonzalo’s skin, there’s no urge to fight it. Gonzalo breathes, slow and steady, and sits so, _so_ still and lets Marek bind him. Lets himself get caught up in the mesmerizing twist and pull of the rope and the dexterous movements of Marek’s hands. _ _

__When Marek’s done, he touches Gonzalo’s knee. “I can do your legs,” he says, soft and careful, like he’s trying not to startle Gonzalo, “or not?”_ _

__“Do it,” Gonzalo says, his words halting and slow, not because he’s hesitating, but because everything feels in him feels stilled, slowed down._ _

__Marek nods. “Okay,” he says. He taps Gonzalo’s knee. “Spread your legs.”_ _

__Gonzalo shifts his legs apart. The velvet upholstery of the chair rubs against his thighs. The ropes still lying across his legs slip and dip into the gap between his knees. “There,” Marek says, “That’s good,” and Gonzalo stops and waits._ _

__Marek kneels. So close he’s almost between Gonzalo’s knees. It’s a little strange, having Marek in that position in front of him. It feels— Gonzalo’s not sure. But strange. Marek looks up and him and smirks, like he knows what Gonzalo’s thinking. It startles a stuttering, rusty laugh out of Gonzalo. Marek smiles and shakes his head._ _

__Then Marek bows his head and curls his hand around Gonzalo’s ankle. Whatever’s left of Gonzalo’s laughter catches in this throat, stuck there like something he can’t quite swallow. Marke’s hand is warm and a little sweaty. He rubs his thumb along Gonzalo’s ankle bone. “The chair leg is back a bit, so—“ He pushes Gonzalo’s foot back until his heel bumps into the chair leg. It puts Gonzalo’s leg at a bit of angle. “This okay?” Marek says, running his hand up Gonzalo’s calf._ _

__The angle isn’t much. And it’s not uncomfortable. “Yeah,” Gonzalo says, “S’fine.”_ _

__“Okay,” Marek says, picking up one of the remaining pieces of rope, “We’ll see if it’s still okay after…” He holds up the rope. “Okay?”_ _

__Gonzalo nods. “Yeah. Sure.”_ _

__Gonzalo can’t see what comes next. Can’t watch like he did before. He can only feel. There’s the brush of Marek’s fingers and the rub of the rope along his skin. Then Marek’s done and there’s just the rope pressing against his skin. Marek looks up and says, “Okay?”_ _

__“Yeah,” Gonzalo says._ _

__“I’m going to do the other,” Marek says._ _

__He doesn’t say it like a question but Gonzalo nods and says, “Okay.”_ _

__Marek pushes Gonzalo’s free foot back. Lines it up with his other one. Then he picks up the last strand of rope and bends to his task. Gonzalo holds his breath and waits for the first loop of the rope around his calf. He exhales when Marek pulls the rope taut. Inhales when Marek loops the rope around his calf again. Exhales when Marek finishes, looks up at him and says, “I’m done.” He stands up before Gonzalo can form his mouth around a response. “You still okay, Pipita?” he says._ _

__Gonzalo doesn’t answer. He tries to move. Pushes against every carefully constructed binding Marek’s placed on him. He can’t move. Can’t— He pushes harder because he has to be sure. The ropes dig into his skin. He still can’t move. He relaxes. Settles back into stillness. Breathes in and out. In and out. He can’t move. Not unless Marek lets him go, unbinds him. Not unless Marek _wants_ him to. And that’s okay. That’s— He looks up at Marek. “Yes,” he says and it comes out barely more than a whisper, so he says it again, a little louder, “Yes.” _ _

__“Okay,” Marek says. He reaches out and rests his hand on Gonzalo’s shoulder. Gonzalo can feel the warmth of Marek’s hand through his shirt and the weight of it on his shoulder feels like another kind of binding, another thing holding him in place. “In a minute,” Marek says, “I’m going to get Dries.” Gonzalo looks for Dries, then, tilting his head so he can see past Marek. Marek lets go his shoulder. He clamps his hand around Gonzalo’s jaw and forces Gonzalo to look at him instead. “Right now,” he says, low and hard, “You look at me and you listen to me. Understand?”_ _

__Gonzalo can’t nod. Marek’s still holding him place. “Yes,” he says._ _

__“Remember,” Marek says, “what I told you before, if you want to stop, just say so okay?”_ _

__“Okay,” Gonzalo says._ _

__Marek lets him go and pats his cheek. “You’re doing so good, Pipita. So well.” And Gonzalo has to look down, because he doesn’t know what to do with Marek’s praise. Not here, like this. Doesn’t know if he likes the way it makes him feel, the way it makes him flush and sweat. Marek tips his chin back up, makes Gonzalo look at him, and says softly, “You ready for more?”_ _

__Gonzalo swallows. “Yes,” he says, then, “Please,” because it feels right, like the thing to say._ _

__Marek smiles a little when Gonzalo says please. “Okay,” he says and rubs his thumb along Gonzalo’s jaw. “When I bring Dries over here, Pipita, you can’t talk to him, okay? All you are allowed to do is watch him. You want something, you ask _me_ for it. Maybe I’ll give it to you. Maybe I won’t. But don’t speak to him unless I tell you you can. Do you understand?” He’s still touching Gonzalo, holding him in place so he has no choice but to stare up into Marek’s dark eyes, punctuating each of his commands with a slow, sweep of his thumb along Gonzalo’s jaw. _ _

__Gonzalo closes his eyes for a moment then opens them and says, “Yes. I understand.”_ _

__“Good,” Marek says then he lets Gonzalo go and takes a step back. Gonzalo waits for him to move, to go and get Dries like he said he would. But Marek doesn’t. He stares at Gonzalo for a moment, then he says, “If you can manage not to come before Dries does, maybe I’ll let him touch you. Maybe.” Then he turns and walks away without waiting for a reply. Which is fine. Because Gonzalo’s not sure he can speak. Not right now._ _

__He watches Marek cross the short distance to the bed and offer Dries his hand. Dries takes it and stands up. Then they come back towards Gonzalo hand in hand. When they get close, Marek tugs Dries in front of him, then pushes him forward until Dries is standing between Gonzalo’s knees. He just fits there and his pants brush against Gonzalo’s bare legs. Dries smiles, wide and bright, and waves at him. Gonzalo smiles helplessly back and laughs. Because only Dries._ _

__“Dries,” Marek says repressively, but, when Gonzalo glances at him, Marek’s fighting back a smile._ _

__“What?” Dries says, leaning his head back against Marek’s shoulder._ _

__“You know what,” Marek says and nips Dries just under the hinge of his jaw._ _

__“M-maybe,” Dries says and his voice shakes. And Gonzalo can’t remember why he was laughing._ _

__Marek wraps his arms around Dries’ waist and kisses his neck, just under where he’d bitten him. “Look back at Pipita, now, okay?”_ _

__“Yeah,” Dries says, slow and shuddery, “okay,” and lifts his head._ _

__“Unbutton your shirt,” Marek says, pulling Dries shirt up and out of his pants, “But slowly, Dries, give Pipita something good to watch, since that’s all he can do.”_ _

__Dries ducks his head, raises his hands, and unbuttons his top button. He glances up, to see, Gonzalo knows, if Gonzalo’s watching him. Gonzalo knows that look now. Has seen it over and over. Craves it almost as much as he does watching Dries. Because it means that Dries _wants_ to be watched, wants _Gonzalo_ to watch him. Dries smiles a little then ducks his head again and unbuttons his next button. _ _

__Dries shifts, readjusting his stance, and the rough denim of his pants rubs against the sides of Gonzalo’s knees. It’s nothing, just the rub of fabric against his skin, incidental, something Gonzalo wouldn’t even notice any other time. But now, held so still, only able to watch and accept whatever Marek gives him, it feels electric._ _

__Dries unbuttons another button. Gonzalo’s never watched him do this. Not really. Dries always gets undressed in a rush. So Gonzalo’s never seen him like this. Never held his breath and waited for Dries to be bare himself to him centimeter by centimeter. Dries’ shirt is gaping open now, Gonzalo can just see the defined lines of his pecs, a hint of the pale skin of his belly. And he wants more, wants to ask Dries to hurry, to push the sides of his shirt apart so Gonzalo can see _all_ of him. But he can’t. Said he wouldn’t. So he holds his breath and waits. _ _

__Dries unbuttons his last button and looks up. Gonzalo lets his breath out in a rush. “Now,” Marek says, “Your pants. Unbutton and unzip them.”_ _

__When Dries ducks his head again and does as he’s been told. Gonzalo almost wants to protest. Almost. Because he wants to see more of Dries then the strip of skin framed by the gaping edges of his shirt. Wants to watch him slide his shirt off his shoulders as slowly as he unbuttoned every button. But this, watching Dries bite his lip and work open the buttons of his fly, pull the zipper down, it’s almost as good._ _

__“Take them off,” Marek says, as soon as Dries is done, “And your underwear.”_ _

__Dries looks up. Looks Gonzalo straight in the eyes as he slowly pushes his jeans and underwear down and shimmies his way out of them. But Gonzalo doesn’t return the favor. There are too many other things to look at. The line of Dries’ hipbones, the trail of hair low on his belly, his dick, not hard, not yet, but starting to fill, his lithe, firm thighs. Seeing Dries like this, each part of him revealed to Gonzalo slowly, presented to him like this, Gonzalo unable to do anything but _look_ , it’s like seeing him again for the first time. _ _

__“That’s it,” Marek says, soft and low, when Dries’ jeans and underwear slip past his knees, “Step out of them, and kick them away.”_ _

__Dries sways back and forth as he complies, shifting from foot to foot as he steps out of his pants. The sides of his legs bump against the insides of Gonzalo’s thighs. His bare skin rubbing against Gonzalo’s bare skin. His skin is warm and soft. Gonzalo wants to lean into each fleeting touch. He tries, unthinkingly, to do so, only for the ropes to stop him short._ _

__Then Dries is still, naked except for his shirt, standing between Gonzalo’s knees, but completely out of his reach._ _

__“I think, I’ll leave this like,” Marek says, pulling Dries shirt over his shoulders, down his arms, and stopping above his wrists, leaving it to effectively cuff his arms to his sides, “This.”_ _

__Dries shimmies his shoulders, like he’s trying to shake the shirt off. “Marek,” he says, and it comes out half protest, half something breathless and wanting, “ _Marek_.”_ _

__Marek wraps his arm around Dries’ waist, trapping one of Dries’ wiggling arms against Dries’ side, and pulls Dries back against him. “Hold still,” he says, in that tone Gonzalo’s never heard Dries disobey. And Dries stills. He relaxes against Marek and tips his head back so he’s looking up at him. “I told Pipita about that time,” Marek says, sliding his hand along Dries’ stomach and curling it around Dries’ arm above his bunched up shirt, “I tied your arms behind your back and fucked you.”_ _

__Dries makes a soft, urgent sound. His head lolls forward and he blinks at Gonzalo. Like he got lost somewhere for a second and is trying to come back to here, to _now_. “We’ll do it again, for Pipita,” Marek says, “So he can see you like that. Can see how good you look like that. Hear how much you beg to be touched, to get fucked. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Dries doesn’t answer. He moves. Squirms. His hips stuttering forward, like just hearing Marek talk about it is making him crazy. _Fuck_. It’s making Gonzalo _crazy_. Marek wraps his other arm around Dries, bands it across his hips, and forces him still. “Answer me.” _ _

__“Yeah, Marek,” Dries says, his words coming out stuttering and slow, “ _Mmm_ , please.”_ _

__“Some day soon,” Marek says, “For now, for today,” he tugs on Dries’ shirt, “We’ll do this.”_ _

__“Yeah,” Dries says, breathy and slow, “‘Kay.”_ _

__“What should we do, now, _hmm_ ,” Marek says, pushing Dries forward so he’s back between Gonzalo’s knees, pressed against the edge of the seat of the chair, his legs just brushing against the insides of Gonzalo’s thighs. The light, barely-there rub of Dries’ bare skin against his is torturous. It makes his skin prickle, like each place Dries has skimmed against him is on fire. He would beg, he thinks, right now, bound, unable to move, for more of this, more of these infuriating little touches. More of anything that means that Dries is _touching him_. He can taste the words on his tongue. _Please. More_. _ _

__“What,” Marek says, before the words spill out of Gonzalo, before he can even open his mouth, and that’s better. Marek lets go of Dries’ arm and dragging his hand up Dries’ chest, trailing his fingers along his sternum. “Should we do first?” Marek dips his head, presses an open-mouthed kiss to Dries’ neck. Dries sighs and his head lolls to the side. Marek kisses him again, scrapes his teeth along the line of his throat. Then Marek lifts his head, looks straight at Gonzalo, and says, “What do you think Pipita would like to see?”_ _

__“Whatever,” Dries says, shuddery and low, “Marek,” and, for once, Dries doesn’t draw Gonzalo’s attention away. Gonzalo stares straight back at Marek, caught, as surely as he is by the ropes, by the blatant directness of Marek’s gaze. “Marek, _please_ ,” Dries says. Marek smiles, sharp and knowing and nothing but teeth, and Gonzalo looks away. Looks at Dries who’s flushed, his lips still parted around his last word, _please_. _ _

__“I think,” Marek says, tracing his fingertips along the line of Dries’ pec, “I’ll start here.” He catches Dries’ nipple between his thumb and forefinger and twists. Dries mewls and pushes up against Marek’s restraining arm. “Yeah,” Marek says, “Definitely here,” and scrapes his nails across Dries’ nipple._ _

__“M-marek.” Dries’ voice shakes and his dick jerks. “ _Oh_.” Marek does it again. In the other direction. Decorates Dries’ skin with criss-crossing red lines. Dries whines, high-pitched and desperate. And Gonzalo clenches his hands around the chair’s arms. The carved decorations in the wood dig into his palms. _ _

__Marek does something else. He must. Because Dries goes, “ _Ah_ , oh,” shuddery and low, “ _oh_ fuck, _fuck_.” But Gonzalo doesn’t look. Doesn’t care what Marek did to drag those sounds out of Dries. He’s transfixed by the way Dries’ dick reacts to everything Marek does. The way it jerks and fills. It’s right there. Right in front of him. Framed by Dries’ restrained hands. Gonzalo’s gotten Dries hard. Used his hands. Used his mouth. Felt Dries get hard between his lips, against his tongue. But he’s never watched like this. Never watched Dries’ dick twitch and grow and lift up away from his balls. And he still _wants_ to touch, wants to put his hands, his mouth, on what’s so, _so_ close to him. But watching, like this, forced to do nothing but _stare_ it’s— It’s like he can _feel_ what he sees. He gets hard along with Dries, his body following along with his._ _

__“I don’t know,” Marek says, low and amused, “What you’re getting off on more. This.” Dries makes a soft, breathy sound. “Or Pipita staring at your dick like he’s just found God.” Gonzalo jerks his head up. Marek laughs a little. “Like what you see, Pipita?”_ _

__Gonzalo looks at Dries. Marek’s hand is splayed across Dries’ belly. Dries’ chest is covered in crisscrossing, red lines and his nipples are red, stiff peaks. He’s staring at Gonzalo, mouth open. His bottom lip is wet and swollen, like he’s been worrying it with his teeth, been trying (and failing) to bite back the sounds Marek’s been dragging out of him. “Yeah,” Gonzalo says, and it comes out strangled and rough, “I do.”_ _

__“ _Hmm_ ,” Marek says, and slides his hand up Dries’ chest, “Let’s see how you like this.” Gonzalo follows the path of his hand. When Marek drags his nails over the scratches scattered in an abstract design across Dries’ skin, Dries shudders and Gonzalo shudders with him. Marek pauses for a second, thumb pressed into the notch of Dries’ collarbone, then slides his hand up and curls it around Dries’ throat. Dries sucks in a breath. The sound of it, harsh and stuttering, is loud in the quiet. Gonzalo holds his own breath. Waits. Stares at the curve of Marek’s hand, at his fingertips digging into Dries’ skin. Then Marek slides his hand up, over Dries’ chin and settles it over Dries’ mouth, and Gonzalo breathes again. “Spit,” Marek says. _ _

__Dries does it. No hesitation. Gonzalo can’t see it. Can only hear the wet, squelching sound of it. And that sound prickles along his skin. Makes him squirm. The velvet of the chair’s upholstery rubs against the backs of his thighs. He’s sweating and the velvet’s damp with it. “Again,” Marek says, soft and murmuring, and Dries does, “That’s it. Such a good boy.” Then he pulls his hand away from Dries’ mouth. Dries’ mouth and chin are wet, now, slick with spit._ _

__Marek curls his hand around Dries’ dick. Dries gasps out something, low and guttural, something Gonzalo doesn’t understand, and his hips stutter up. His dick slides through Marek’s fist, flushed and wet with his own spit. And Gonzalo’s hips come up too. Sweat slides down his spine. The fabric of his shirt is wet and warm, rubbing roughly against his skin, as he restlessly tries to work his hips up. Chasing something that isn’t coming._ _

__Marek clamps down hard with his other arm, the one still banded across Dries’ hips. “Hold still,” he says. It takes Dries a second. His breath comes hard and fast. He’s panting. And Gonzalo breathes with him. In and out. _In and out_. Then Dries is still. “There you go,” Marek says, kissing Dries’ cheek, “That’s it,” and Marek moves his hand. Strokes it up and down Dries’ dick. “See what you get when you’re good for me, _hmm?_.”_ _

__“M-marek,” Dries says, slurred and stuttering, “Oh, _oh_.” _ _

__“Shh,” Marek says, stroking Dries, slow and steady, “You’re doing so good.” He swipes his thumb across the head of Dries’ dick. Dries whines a little but doesn’t move. “So good,” Marek murmurs, and does it again. Marek’s thumb comes away wet. Damp with Dries’ spit and pre-come. He speeds up his strokes a little. And Gonzalo can hear Dries’ breathing speed up. He wants to move. To work his hips in time with the rhythm of Marek’s strokes. And he can lift his hips, work his thighs together just enough to get something that’s almost friction, almost— His underwear’s damp, pulled almost uncomfortably tight against his dick, rubbing across it, but still he squirms and wiggles. Desperate for something. _Anything_. _ _

__Marek kicks Gonzalo’s foot. Hard. The sole of his sneaker scrapes across Gonzalo’s bare foot. “Pipita, hold still,” he says, and Gonzalo looks up at him, “Or I’ll stop.” Gonzalo doesn’t think. He stops moving. Marek does too. Pulls his hand away from Dries’ dick. Dries whines. But Marek ignores him and stares at Gonzalo. “I want,” Marek says, ”You to be still. That’s why I tied you. Maybe it’s not enough, just your arms and ankles. Maybe next time I’ll have to do more. Or can you be still, hmm, Pipita?”_ _

__Gonzalo doesn’t know. But he wants to try. Wants— He settles back in chair, settles himself the way Marek had arranged him before Marek had wrapped and knotted the ropes around him. He pushes against the ropes. Just a little. Just enough to remind himself he _can’t_ move. Just enough for them to dig into his skin, rub it a little raw. “Yeah,” he says, “I—I can.”_ _

__Marek stares at him for a moment longer. “Yes,” he says, “You can. Because you want me to keep going, don’t you?”_ _

__Gonzalo nods. “Yes,” he says, “Please.”_ _

__Marek smiles a little. “Okay,” he says, and puts his hand back on Dries’ dick._ _

__Marek strokes Dries. Gonalzo follows the motion of his hand. _Still_ , he thinks, _still, still, still._ And he is still. So still. And there’s pleasure, like a low, thrumming ache underneath his skin, good but not _enough_. But it’s all he has. So he watches Marek’s hand slide up and down Dries’ dick. Lets the soft, gasping sounds Dries’ making wash over him. And holds himself so still. _ _

__“Do you want to come?” Marek says, and Gonzalo looks up at him, ready to say, _yes, please_ , but Marek isn’t looking at him. Isn’t talking to him. His head is bowed, bent close to Dries’ face, their cheeks brushing.“ _Hmm_ , Dries? You’re so close, aren’t you?” He glances at Gonzalo. “I know Pipita wants you to. He knows I won’t let you make him come until you do.” _ _

__Dries groans, low and guttural. “Marek. _Marek_. Please. _Please_.” _ _

__Marek nips his jaw. “You beg so prettily. But I think,” he says, “if you want to come, you’re going to have to make me come first,” then he lets go of Dries’ dick and steps back._ _

__Dries whines, sharp and frustrated, and stumbles back. Gonzalo gasps and leans forward. Instinctively following after him. The ropes dig into his arms. Stop him short. Marek steadies Dries. He must do it by catching hold of Dries’ shirt because Dries’ arm shift up and back. Like Marek is pulling them up by his shirt. “Easy,” he says, “I’ve got you.”_ _

__“ _Marek_.” Dries says. The sound of Dries’ voice, pained and desperate, is like an ache in Gonzalo’s chest. There’s a desperate wanting twisting under his skin. An itch he can’t scratch, Driving him mad. He can only sit and breathe. Let the itch, the _yearning_ , hum there under his skin, while he waits for Marek. Waits to see what’s coming next. Waits to find out how long Marek will make him - _them_ \- wait. _ _

__“ _Shh_ ,” Marek says, “Dries, I’ll get you there. You know I will. But you have to be good for me right now. Can you do that?” _ _

__Dries doesn’t answer for a moment. His head falls forward, his sweat-limp hair slumping across his forehead. His breath is coming in quick, gasping pants. He lifts his head. Licks his lips. “I,” he says, slow and shivery, “Yeah. Yes.”_ _

__Marek presses a kiss just under Dries’ ear. “Such a good boy,” he says, “Aren’t you?” and Dries shudders. “Now get on your knees.”_ _

__Dries drops to his knees. He sways and, without having his hands free to steady himself, he leans into Gonzalo’s knee instead. His chest is slick with sweat and the warm slide of his damp skin against Gonzalo’s leg makes Gonzalo’s breath stutter. Dries looks up at him and smiles, crooked and open-mouthed. And Gonzalo can’t stop the sound he makes, hoarse and wanting, because his body - _his dick_ \- has a pavlovian reaction to Dries’ wet, open mouth. _ _

__Marek puts his hand under Dries’ chin and forces his head back. He slides his hand up over Dries’ chin and pushes three of his fingers into Dries’ mouth. Dries takes them, lets Marek push them in all the way, and sucks. The sound it’s— _Fuck_. It’s wet and squelching and _lewd_. And the way he looks, his mouth stretched obscenely wide by Marek’s fingers, _Christ_. Gonzalo grips the arm of the chair so tightly the hard edges of the wood digging into his palms _hurts_ , because he wants to move, he wants to—_ _

__“I see you,” Marek says, pulling his fingers out of Dries’ mouth with a wet pop, “Watching him when he’s got your dick in his mouth.” He rubs his fingertips across Dries’ mouth. “You look at him like you’ve never seen anything so good. Maybe it’s just that you like having your dick in his mouth, but I think…” Marek pushes his fingers back into Dries’ mouth. Gonzalo bites his lip trying, failing, to force back the moan that reverberates low in his throat. “I think you also just like how he looks, just like watching him take it.” He pulls his fingers back out of Dries’ mouth. “What do you think, Pipita?” he says, dragging his wet fingertips up Dries’ cheek, “Want to find out if I’m right? Want to watch him suck my dick? See if you like watching that as much as you like watching me fucking him?”_ _

__Gonzalo swallows. His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth. His mouth’s gone dry. He’s never watched Dries do that with Marek. Never. And he— He swallows again. “Yeah,” he says, and it comes out gravelly and low, “Marek, yeah.”_ _

__Marek smiles, quick and sharp, and says, “All right.” He tugs on Dries’ hair, tipping his head to the side. “Move this way,” he says and lets Dries go. Dries shuffles over until his shoulder is in line with Gonzalo’s knee. Marek pats Dries’ head and says, “That’s good. Stop.”_ _

__Marek slips out of his shoes and kicks them away. Then he starts unbuckling his belt, moving while he does it, walking around Dries. He pulls his belt off and drops it on the floor behind Dries’ feet. It lands with a clatter. He comes and stands in front of Dries, right next to Gonzalo. Gonzalo’s very aware of him. He’s so close that, when he starts to unzip his pants, his elbow brushes against Gonzalo’s shoulder. Gonzalo could turn his head. Look at him. But he doesn’t That’s not something he does with Marek. He sees him naked, sure, but he doesn’t stare, doesn’t— So he listens to the rustle of fabric that must be Marek taking off his pants, stares at Dries, and waits._ _

__“Now,” Marek says. And he touches Gonzalo. Just lightly. Skims his fingers along the nape of Gonzalo’s neck. And Gonzalo jerks. Comes up hard against the ropes. “All right, Pipa?” Marek murmurs, and does it again. And Gonzalo doesn’t know. He’s dying to be touched. Desperate for it. But not by Marek. Not— But it feels good. Marek’s fingers are cool and damp. And his light, skimming touch feels electric, like sparks skittering across Gonzalo’s skin._ _

__“Yeah,” Gonzalo says, settling back into the chair, until the ropes aren’t digging into his skin, until they’re just _there_ , like they have been all along, holding him down. “M’okay,” and Marek settles his hand across the nape of Gonzalo’s neck. And it’s like being bound again. The weight of Marek’s hand feels like the coiling of the rope around his limbs. _ _

__Gonzalo tests it, Marek’s hold, like he had the ropes. Shimmies his shoulders. Marek squeezes his neck. “Hold still,” he says. Gonzalo relaxes. Marek taps his thumb against Gonzalo’s neck. “There you go, Pipa, that’s it.” He pauses. “Now,” he says, “Let’s put our boy to work. Give you a show.” He reaches out, curls his other hand along the back of Dries’ head. He strokes his fingers along the line of Gonzalo’s throat. “I want you to look now, Pipita, I don’t want you to miss anything.” And Gonzalo turns his head._ _

__“Come here,” Marek says. He pulls Dries forward, until he’s close enough for the tip of Marek’s dick to slide across his cheek, along his mouth. “Open your mouth,” Marek says. And Dries does. Gonzalo holds his breath. Marek tugs Dries forward and pushes the head of his dick into Dries’ mouth. Dries makes a soft, hungry sound. And Gonzalo’s breath comes out in a quick, painful rush._ _

__Dries dips his head, strains against Marek’s hold, like he’s desperate to have more of Marek’s dick in his mouth. Marek pulls Dries off his dick. Dries whines a little. “No,” Marek says, “You can have what I give you, when I give it to you, or you can have nothing, understand?”_ _

__Dries nods, jerky and quick. “Yes,” he says, low and breathless, “Marek. _Marek_. Please.” _ _

__“Lick,” Marek says, pushing the head of his dick against Dries’ still open mouth, “Just the head.”_ _

__Gonzalo can see Dries swallow, see his throat work. Then Dries slides his tongue between his lips and swipes it across the tip of Marek’s dick. Marek digs his thumb into Gonzalo’s neck. “Again,” Marek says, pulling away from Dries just a little, just enough that Dries has to extend his tongue to do what Marek’s asked. It looks— _Christ_. Gonzalo doesn’t know. Dries’ pink, glistening tongue framed by his red, wet lips. It’s— And the slow swipe of his tongue across Marek’s dick. Gonzalo can’t breathe. It’s like he’s being suffocated by a wave of wet, stifling heat. _ _

__“That’s it,” Marek says, soft and murmuring, “That’s so good, Dries.” He pushes forward again. Rests the head of his dick on Dries’ extended tongue. And Dries holds so still. Waits. “Such a good boy, for me,” Marek says, “Now, suck it, just the head.”_ _

__Dries does, greedily and messily, licking and sucking, but never taking more than the head of Marek’s dick into his mouth. He lavishes attention on it, though, gets it, and his mouth, sloppy-wet with spit. The sounds of it slap at Gonzalo. He’s saturated in sweat. It’s sliding down his neck, down his spine, soaking his shirt and his underwear. It’s running down his forehead and into his eyes. It stings. Makes his vision blur. He blinks it away because he doesn’t want to miss a single thing Dries does. His dick throbs between his legs. Pleasure buzzes through him. It feels like sandpaper rubbing along the inside of his skin. Too _much_ until it’s like pain. But still not _enough_. _ _

__“Now,” Marek says, and his voice’s gone a little hoarse, “More.” He pulls Dries forward. Pushes his dick deeper into his mouth. “Take all of it, c’mon, Dries, I know you can.” And Dries works his way down Marek’s dick until his face is pressed to Marek’s stomach. Marek holds him there, his fingers digging into Dries’s scalp. “That’s so good, you’re doing so well,” he says, rough and murmuring, “Being so good for me.” Gonzalo can’t breathe looking at them. Can’t—_ _

__Marek pulls Dries away. Dries moans as his mouth slides off Marek’s dick, like he doesn’t want to let it go, like he wants to have it in his mouth more than he wants to breathe._ _

__“Our boy loves this,” Marek says. He pushes Dries back onto his dick and Dries makes a pleased, humming sound. “Doesn’t he, Pipa? Loves to suck dick.” He taps his fingers against Gonzalo’s neck. His fingers are warm now, sweaty, because he’s sweating or because Gonzalo is, Gonzalo doesn’t know. “Makes me want to keep him on his knees all the time. Have him suck my dick whenever I want.” He rubs his thumb along Gonzalo’s throat. Gonzalo wonders if he can feel Gonzalo’s pulse racing. Skittering and jumping like his heart is in his chest. “Makes me want to put him on his knees in the dressing room, line everyone up, and have him suck them each in turn, have them come all over him until he’s a filthy, fucking mess.” And Gonzalo can’t stop the sound he makes. Strangled and gasping. Can’t stop his hips from jerking up._ _

__Marek laughs a little, rough and low, and says, “You like that, huh, Pipita? Think I’d sit you down on one of the benches, make him kneel between your thighs.” He pulls Dries back off his dick. Sticky strands of saliva string between his dick and Dries’ mouth. “Would you like that, _hmm,_ Pipita? Him right between your thighs, right where you could watch him. Right where you could see him suck each one of them?” He rubs the head of his dick along Dries’ cheeks. Rubs it across his mouth, smearing saliva across his already slick lips. “Right where you could watch them get our boy all dirty.” _ _

__“Marek, _Marek_.” And it’s torn out of him. Comes out shuddering and broken. And he doesn’t know if it’s a plea for Marek to stop or a plea for him to keep going. “Please. _Please_.” He’s squirming, now, hips working restlessly, _uselessly_ , up. His whole body straining up. The ropes are rubbing against his skin. He’s chasing something. Pleading for it. Begging desperately with his whole body. “Please.” _ _

__Marek squeezes his neck. “Easy, Pipa,” he says, soft and soothing, “C’mon, breathe for me.” He rubs his thumb up and down Gonzalo’s throat in slow, firm strokes. “C’mon.” Gonzalo breathes. Gulps in air. “Easy. Easy,” Marek murmurs, “Slowly.” Gonzalo tries. Breathes in and out. As slowly as he can manage. Does it again. Then again. “That’s it,” Marek says. And Gonzalo does it again. Then again. Breathes in when Marek strokes his thumb up, breathes out when Marek strokes his thumb down. Feels his breathing even out. His heart slow down. “You good?” Marek says, tapping his thumb against Gonzalo’s throat._ _

__Gonzalo swallows. “Uh,” he says, “Yeah. Yeah. M’good.”_ _

__“You want to stop, or…” Marek says._ _

__“No,” Gonzalo says, before Marek gets to whatever comes after _or_ , “Marek, _fuck_ , no.” _ _

__“All right,” Marek says. He squeezes Gonzalo’s neck. “But you have to stay still, for me, okay, Pipa? Can you do that?”_ _

__“Yeah,” Gonzalo says. He doesn’t know if he can. But he _wants_ to. Wants to do what Marek asks._ _

__“Okay,” Marek says and he pushes his dick back into Dries’ mouth. He doesn’t say anything else. Not to Gonzalo. Not to Dries. Just fists his hand in Dries’ hair, holds him in place, and fucks his mouth. Gonzalo doesn’t know if Marek being quiet is better or worse. Because now there’s just the wet, smacking sounds of Marek fucking Dries’ face. And it makes Gonzalo want to squirm but he doesn’t. He holds himself still. Because Marek asked him to. Because Marek’s pressing his fingertips into Gonzalo’s neck. Holding him in place as tightly and as surely as the ropes. So Gonzalo focuses on the weight of Marek’s hand on his neck and holds _still_. _ _

__Then Marek makes a rough, gasping sound and digs his fingers hard into Gonzalo’s neck. Right against his pulse, so hard Gonzalo can’t breathe for a second. “ _Fuck_ ,” Marke says, low, almost to himself, then something guttural and low that Gonzalo doesn’t understand. Marek pulls Dries back. He’s coming, spilling across Dries’ open mouth. He tips Dries’ head back, comes on his chin, his cheeks. His grip on Gonzalo’s neck goes slack. He lets go of Dries and Dries’ head falls forward. Come slides down his chin, along his neck. His mouth is still open. Slick with Marek’s come. Marek’s breathing hard. The sound of it harsh and rasping. “ _Fuck_ ,” he says, “Pipita, look at our boy. Such a pretty, filthy mess.” Gonzalo couldn’t look away if he tried. Marek drags his fingers across Dries’ mouth. “Aren’t you?” _ _

__“Marek,” Dries says. His voice is completely wrecked. “Please. _Please_.” _ _

__“What do you want?” Marek says, low and rough, “ _Hmm_ , baby?” _ _

__“ _Marek_ ,” Dries says. And he sounds desperate, dragging out Marek’s name into a petulant whine. _ _

__“Tell me,” Marek says, tapping his fingers against Dries’ cheek, “Or I won’t give it to you.”_ _

__Dries turns his face into Marek’s fingers. “I want to come, Marek, c’mon, _please_.” _ _

__Marek pats his cheek. “Good boy, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”_ _

__“Please,” Dries says, and he’s left desperate behind for a soft, wheedling tone, which makes Gonzalo want to give him anything he asks for, “Marek. _Please._ ”_ _

__“What do you think, Pipita?” Marek says, plucking at the collar of Gonzalo’s shirt, “Should we let our boy come?”_ _

__“Yeah,” Gonzalo says, and it comes out a broken, gravelly rasp. He clears his throat, says it again, “Yeah.”_ _

__“Okay,” Marek says. He squeezes Gonzalo’s shoulder then lets him go._ _

__Marek leans down and pulls Dries up off the floor. “Come here,” he says, catching Dries when he stumbles forward against him, “There we go,” he murmurs. He pulls Dries close and kisses him, slow and deep. Dries squirms against Marek and makes these murmuring, begging sounds that drive Gonzalo crazy. “C’mon,” Marek says, when he pulls away, “We’re going to give Pipita a front row seat because he loves to watch you come and I don’t want him to miss anything.”_ _

__“ _Please_ ,” Dries says._ _

__Marek brings Dries around and pushes him back between Gonzalo’s knees. Gonzalo has to bite his lip when Dries’ legs brush against his. He could come right now, just from that, just from the barest of brushes of Dries’ skin against his. Dries looks completely wrecked. There’s still come on his face and some sliding down his throat. His mouth is slick and swollen. And his dick, _christ_ , it’s flushed and slick with pre-come, jutting out from his body. Gonzalo wants to lick him. Wants to press his tongue flat right against the tip of his dick. See if that’d be enough to make Dries come. It’d be enough to make Gonzalo come. Just the feel of Dries against his tongue. The taste of him. But he can’t. All he can do is stare. He licks his lips, tastes sweat, salt and bitter, along the edges of his mouth. _ _

__Marek curls his hand around Dries dick and Dries’ whole body jerks. Gonzalo bites his lip again. Focuses on the sharp bloom of pain. He grips the arms of the chair as hard as he can and stays _still_. If he moves, he’ll come. _ _

__Marek wraps his arm around Dries’ waist. Holds him still. “Easy,” he says, bending close to Dries, speaking right into his ear, “I’ve got you.”_ _

__Dries whimpers and wriggles. Like he can’t help himself. His face is red. His hairline dark and damp with sweat. Marek kisses his cheek. “You’ve been so good for me, Dries. Been such a good boy for me and Pipita.” He moves his hand on Dries’ dick. Dries whines again, high-pitched and desperate. Marek strokes him, slow and steady, and says, “You can come now, Dries, okay? Want you to come for me. For Pipita. Look at him.” And Dries does. He blinks at Gonzalo. He looks dazed. “See that,” Marek says, “See how desperate he is for you to come? _Hmm?_. C’mon, give him what he wants. Come for us.” And Dries does. He arches up, his whole body bowing in Marek’s embrace, and comes all over Marek’s fingers with low, sobbing sound. _ _

__Gonzalo bites his lip so hard he tastes blood. And doesn’t move. And _doesn’t_ move. Because he can’t. Because his wanting is like a thing alive under his skin. Something clawing and scraping to get out. And if he moves— _Fuck_. _ _

__Dries slumps against Marek, his head falling back onto Marek’s shoulder. And, for a moment, there’s just the sound of Dries breathing. Of him panting. Then Marek says, “Look at Pipita.”  
Dries raises his head. “He waited for you,” Marek says, “You see.”_ _

__“ _Mmm_ ,” Dries says. He looks Gonzalo up and down then smiles, soft and open. “Yeah.” _ _

__“I think he deserves something nice,” Marek says, looking straight at Gonzalo, “Don’t you? Since he waited.”_ _

__“Yeah,” Dries says._ _

__Marek kisses Dries’ cheek. “Then let’s give him something nice.” He pulls back from Dries and says, “I’m going to take off your shirt. But don’t use your hands unless I say you can, okay?”_ _

__Dries tips his head back and nuzzles Marek. “ _Mmm_ , ‘kay.” He’s radiant in his pleasured, amiable languor. Gonzalo’s strung so taut, so close to breaking, that he can barely look at him. _ _

__Marek releases Dries’ arms from his shirt and tosses it away. “Get on your knees.”_ _

__Dries does. He’s clumsy about it. He ends up slumped a little, leaning against Gonzalo’s right knee. And Gonzalo can hardly breathe. The hot press of Dries’ sweaty skin against the inside of his knee is— It’s _nothing_. But he can’t—_ _

__Marek tangles his hand in Dries’ hair and hauls him upright. He pushes Dries forward until his face is hovering over Gonzalo’s dick. Gonzalo can feel his breath, hot and humid, through his underwear. Gonzalo doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t— It’s as if everything inside him’s balanced on a razor’s edge. “Just your mouth,” Marek says softly, “No hands, Dries.”_ _

__Dries puts his mouth on him and it’s like everything inside Gonzalo short-circuits. And the feeling at first, it isn’t even pleasure. It’s something sparking and intense and close to pain. He doesn’t come. He’s not sure how._ _

__Dries mouthes his way wetly and messily up Gonzalo’s dick. And, even through the fabric, Gonzalo’s never felt something so incredibly _fucking_ good. Dries gets to the waistband of Gonzalo’s underpants and tugs at them with his teeth. His teeth slip against Gonzalo’s stomach. Scrape along the head of his dick. Gonzalo jerks. “ _Fuck_.” _ _

__Dries follows his teeth with his tongue. Licks along Gonzalo’s stomach. Murmurs, “Sorry, sorry,” agains his skin. And Gonzalo will forgive him that, will forgive him _anything_ , because he licks across the head of Gonzalo’s dick. No fabric in the way now, just his hot, wet tongue against Gonzalo’s dick. _ _

__Dries gets his mouth around the tip of Gonzalo’s dick and sucks. And Gonzalo comes. It’s like being caught in a wave, being pulled under the water, and then crashed into the shore. He’s still shaking when he’s done. Gasping for air._ _

__“Pipa,” someone, Marek, says. Gonzalo blinks. Tries to focus on Marek. Marek smiles a little. “You okay?”_ _

__Gonzalo still can’t breathe, can’t— He focuses on that, on breathing. In and out. _In and out_. “Yeah,” he says, finally, and still, it comes out breathless, “ _Fuck_. Marek, yeah.”_ _

__Marek smiles a little more. “Good,” he says, then he turns his attention to Dries, “And you, how’re you doing?”_ _

__Dries is leaning against Gonzalo’s leg, his head resting on Gonzalo’s thigh. He’s a mess again. Gonzalo’s come is smeared along the corner of his mouth and his chin. Marek smoothes Dries’ hair up off his forehead. “Well?”_ _

__Dries smiles. “M’good, Marek,” he says, soft and slurring, “Everything is, was, so good. But Marek, Marek, m’not gonna suck off the whole team, ‘kay?”_ _

__Gonzalo’s laughter spills out of him, raggedy and breathless. And Marek’s laughing too, his weird barking laugh, the one that means he really thinks something is hilarious. “Shit, Dries,” Marek says, still laughing, “I didn’t—“_ _

__Dries lifts his head and cuts Marek off. “Maybe,” he says, “Like half of them. But some of those fuckers, I don’t want their dicks anywhere near me.”_ _

__And Gonzalo loses it, laughs so hard he’s back to gasping for air. “ _Christ_ , Dries,” Marek says but he’s laughing too. “I didn’t,” Marek says, “Fuck, Dries, I was just, you know…” _ _

__“Oh,” Dries says, “Huh.”_ _

__Marek ruffles Dries’ hair. “You’re such a slut,” he says, but he sounds amusedly fond, “You’d really do it, wouldn’t you?”_ _

__Dries shrugs. “Maybe.”_ _

__Marek laughs a little. “I have to untie Pipita, you want to get up?”_ _

__Dries nuzzles Gonzalo’s thigh. “Can I stay here?”_ _

__Marek pats his head. “Sure, if Pipita doesn’t mind.”_ _

__“It’s fine,” Gonzalo says, before Marek can ask him, “He can stay,” because there’s something settling about having Dries’ warm weight pressed against his leg. Also, he’d always rather be closer to Dries if he has a choice._ _

__“All right,” Marek says, “You ready?” He reaches over and runs his fingers along the rope around Gonzalo’s right wrist._ _

__Gonzalo nods. “Yeah, uh, sure.”_ _

__“Okay,” Marek says. He hooks his fingers under the ropes._ _

__He comes a little closer and starts tugging the intricate knot around Gonzalo’s arm loose. And Gonzalo doesn’t think anything of it. Not really. Not until the knot, the rope is gone. But it feels— Strange. Marek rubs his fingers along the faint marks left by the rope. “I’m going to do the other arm now, okay?”_ _

__Gonzalo nods. He can’t shake the odd wrongness he feels. He lifts his arm. Puts it back down. He feels— He’s not even fucking sure. Suddenly unmoored or some shit. Marek unties his other arm. Drops the rope on the floor. He curls his hand around Gonzalo’s arm, right where the rope had been. Gonzalo likes the weight of it there. It’s— “Pipa,” Marek says, soft and low, he leans in closer, “Are you okay?”_ _

__“I,” Gonzalo starts. He’s not sure. “Uh…”_ _

__“I’ve got you, Pipa,” Marek says, squeezing Gonzalo’s arm, “Okay?” Gonzalo nods. Marek reaches up and pats his cheek. “You did really well, Pipa.” His hand is still curved along Gonzalo’s cheek. “Did you like it?” He rubs his thumb along Gonzalo’s cheek. “Was it what you wanted?”_ _

__It was what he wanted and things he didn’t even know he wanted. “Yeah,” Gonzalo says, “Uh, it was.”_ _

__Marek smiles a little. “Good.” He pauses. “I’m going to untie your legs now, okay?”_ _

__He lets go of Gonzalo’s arm. And Gonzalo’s not— _Fuck_. He doesn’t know. Not ready for him to let go. He makes a sound. Sharp and protesting. “Easy,” Marek says, and puts his hand back on Gonzalo’s arm, “ _Shh_. I’ve got you.” He leans in and presses his forehead to Gonzalo’s. “We’ll just wait a second, okay?” _ _

__“Okay,” Gonzalo manages to say after a second, “Okay.”_ _

__They stay like that for one breath, then another, and another, and then, Marek says, “Ready?”_ _

__And Gonzalo thinks, maybe he is. “Yeah,” he says, whispers it like a secret between the two of them, “M’ready.”_ _

__Marek smiles. “Okay,” he says, and he pulls away, but not too far. “You really did do well,” he says. He presses a kiss to the corner of Gonzalo’s mouth. His mouth is warm and damp. Then he turns, so they’re looking straight into each other’s eyes. “So well.” Then he leans in, stopping with his mouth bare centimeters from Gonzalo’s. “Say no if you want,” he says._ _

__Gonzalo doesn’t say no. And Marek kisses him. It’s quick and almost chaste. Just the fleeting press of Marek’s mouth to his._ _

__“Fuck,” Dries says, “Do that again.”_ _

__Gonzalo laughs. Marek pulls back a little and smiles. “Well, Pipita,” he says, “Should we do it again?”_ _

__Gonzalo glances down at Dries. He’s looking up at them with a gleeful kind of awe. Gonzalo looks back at Marek. “Just for Dries.”_ _

__Marek laughs a little. “Of course, just for Dries.” And he kisses Gonzalo again. For real, this time, pressing until Gonzalo opens his mouth. He tastes like come, like _Dries_. When Marek pulls away, Gonzalo’s breathing hard and Marek looks smug. “Happy?” Marek says._ _

__“Fuck _yeah_ ,” Dries says, “You are so doing that again for me.” _ _

__Marek straightens up. “We’ll see.” He pats Gonzalo’s arm. “I’m going to untie your legs, okay?”_ _

__Gonzalo licks his lips. “Uh, yeah, sure, fine.”_ _

__Marek’s quick about it. A couple minutes later Gonzalo’s completely free of the ropes. He can still feel them, though, like they’re still pressing against his skin. “Come on,” Marek says, holding out his hand to Dries, “Up you get.”_ _

__Dries takes Marek’s hand and Marek pulls him up. Marek smiles at Gonzalo. “Now, you,” he says, holding out his hand, “But carefully, okay, Pipita? Let us help.”_ _

__It takes Gonzalo a moment to lift his hand. To remember that he can. But he does. He takes Marek’s hand. “Ready?” Marek says._ _

__“Yeah,” Gonzalo says and lets Marek pull him. He sways when he stands and he can feel his knees buckle._ _

__Marek catches him, wraps his arm around Gonzalo’s waist and pulls him close. “I’ve got you.”_ _

__Dries presses against Gonzalo’s back. He wraps his arms around Gonzalo’s waist and nuzzles against Gonzalo’s shoulder blade. “We’ve got you.”_ _

__They just stand there for a long moment. Pressed together. It’s— It’s _nice_. _ _

__“So,” Marek says, “You want to lie down? Shower? What?”_ _

__A shower sounds good. Gonzalo is sticky with sweat and come and a shower sounds really fucking good. “Shower,” he says._ _

__“Okay,” Marek says, “We’ll help.”_ _

__Gonzalo half-wants to say he doesn’t need help but he’s not sure he can stand without them right now. Also, even if he could, he’s not sure he wants to let go of them. “Thought,” he says, “Three people couldn’t fit in the shower.”_ _

__Marek pats Gonzalo’s side. “We’ll make it work, Pipa,” he says, “Okay?”_ _

__“Okay,” Gonzalo says, even though he doesn’t know how they will, because he trusts Marek to figure it out._ _


End file.
